


The Mistletoe Mystery

by thegreatestcircus_ot3



Category: The Greatest Showman (2017)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/M, Kissing, M/M, OT4, POV Alternating, Polyamory, Pranks and Practical Jokes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:08:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21934243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreatestcircus_ot3/pseuds/thegreatestcircus_ot3
Summary: Phineas’ eyes narrow in suspicion. “I know you like grand gestures, Phillip, but if you tell me you got up at dawn to decorate the entire circus with mistletoe I might just keel over in shock.”Christmas circus shenanigans.
Relationships: Charity Barnum/P. T. Barnum, Charity Barnum/P. T. Barnum/Phillip Carlyle/Anne Wheeler, P. T. Barnum/Phillip Carlyle, Phillip Carlyle/Anne Wheeler, Prince Constantine/Lettie Lutz
Comments: 4
Kudos: 59





	The Mistletoe Mystery

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The_Girl_Who_Got_Tired_of_Waiting](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Girl_Who_Got_Tired_of_Waiting/gifts).



> For Pinnie. I told you I'd have this up before Christmas and I did it- just! Merry Christmas, my dear.

On the first day of Christmas, Phineas enters the circus tent and walks into chaos. Chaos is almost a constant state of being at a circus, but usually the mornings are the quietest part of the day, when everyone rises late and sleepy from the previous nights performance- or more likely, from the after party.

People scatter in all directions around the tent and someone screams. For a split, heart stopping second, Phineas thinks _oh please, not another fire_ , his mind instantly transported back to that terrible night before he realises- no. There’s no smoke, there’s no flames.

There is, however, mistletoe. Lots of it. So much, in fact, that there’s more green than red beneath the big top. Tendrils loop around the stands and hang from the rigging, the centre pole could be a giant tree trunk, covered in ivy and moss. Phineas takes a deep breath and everything smells _alive_.

He watches the troupe chase each other around, their smiles wide with the kind of childlike glee that only comes from Christmas time. The aim of the game seems to be simple enough; don’t get caught under the mistletoe. 

W.D. hangs upside from the lyra, swinging idly through the air with his arms outstretched as if to say, _come and get me if you dare_. Vasily does laps of the ring in only a few steps and has the distinct advantage of being so tall no one can reach his face. Rosie is fast on her feet but Jeremy is faster and he pecks her cheek and runs away before she can retaliate. 

Phineas grabs the first person who gets underfoot.

“Charles?”

“Yeah?”

Phineas points upwards. “This your doing?”

Charles fixes him with a look. “Yeah, cause I can reach that high.”

“Honestly, Charles, if you wanted a kiss that badly, all you had to do was ask.”

Phineas crouches down and Charles’ eyes widen, predicting Phineas’ move a second before he makes it.

“Don’t you dare-”

Charles is too slow to duck out of reach and ends up with a big, wet kiss planted on his cheek. Phineas grins at the look on Charles’ face and salutes him.

“Merry Christmas, General.”

Charles’ will deny till his dying day that he was smiling, and hides it by wiping his cheek on the back of his sleeve. “Yeah, yeah, you too, circus dad.”

  
  


* * *

To say that the office got the brunt of the mystery mistletoe decoration is an understatement. The ceiling is teeming with the stuff, a lush carpet of green and white. Sprigs hang from the door frame, above the sofa, above the desks, above any place where one person might be required to stand for more than a few seconds, making it impossible not to be caught beneath it. 

And yet the most surprising sight that greets Phineas as he steps inside the office is Phillip already sat at his desk, dressed and looking mostly awake, a cup of coffee at his elbow as he thumbs through a pile of papers.

Phineas’ eyes narrow in suspicion. “I know you like grand gestures, Phillip, but if you tell me you got up at dawn to decorate the entire circus with mistletoe I might just keel over in shock.” 

Phillip holds up his hands. “Not guilty. My money is on Anne and W.D.”

“They’re sneaky, they can climb and aren’t afraid of heights,” Phineas ticks each point off on his fingers. “I think you’re right. Mystery solved.” 

Phillip smiles a small, distracted smile. Phineas brushes his fingers through the hanging tendrils and clusters of white berries fall into his hair and around his feet like hailstones.

“I see you haven’t taken any down.”

The tips of Phillip’s ear turns pink but he holds Phineas’ gaze. Unable to help himself or his grin, Phineas adds, “Is it because you can’t reach?”

Phillip gives an unimpressed huff and returns his attention to the paperwork. “If you think I’m kissing you now, Phineas, you’re very much mistaken.”

Phineas perches himself atop Phillip’s desk.

“But it would be rude to break tradition.”

Phillip snorts. “And since when have you ever cared about tradition?”

Phineas takes the pen from Phillip’s hand with little resistance and tilts his chin up till their eyes meet. He closes the distance between them and captures Phillip’s mouth with his own, kissing him soft and sweet. It’s a good morning kiss as much as it is a mistletoe kiss. Phillip is clingy in the way he always is when he’s forced out of bed before his preferred rising time of noon, choosing Phineas’ tie for an anchor as he surrenders himself to the kiss.

A throat is cleared pointedly behind them.

They part on a sigh and Phineas lingers for a moment longer, pressing his lips to the deepening furrow between Phillip’s brows.

He whirls around to find Lettie standing in the doorway, red faced and huffing. On second glance, her skin is not just flushed, but covered in lipstick marks of various colours.

“Ah, Lettie! Aren’t you a popular lady this morning!”

“My god, there’s even more mistletoe in here.” She stares up at the ceiling decoration in awe. “Lord knows why. Usually neither of you need an excuse to start sucking each other’s faces off.”

Phillip suddenly can’t look Lettie in the eye. Phineas’ grin is unrepentant. 

“So was this you?” She jabs a finger at Phineas. “This has ‘another one of P.T. Barnum’s great ideas’ written all over it.”

“All my ideas _are_ great,” he agrees. Lettie and Phillip give twin amused snorts and Phineas continues like he hasn’t heard. “but this wasn’t one of them.”

“Let’s say I believe you. If it wasn’t you two, then who was it?”

Phillip and Phineas share a look.

“Wanna start a betting pool?” Phineas rummages around in his jacket pocket and throws a bill down on the desk with the air of throwing down a gauntlet. “Ten bucks says it was your wife.”

“You’re forgetting I swore off betting with you after the tattoo incident,” Phillip says pointedly, his hand drifting absently to the place where the regretful mark sits in the small of his back. The corners of Phineas’ mouth twitch at the memory. 

“Come to think of it, Charity was up unusually early this morning.”

Phillip nods slowly. “Anne, too.”

Lettie chuckles. “So your girls pulled a prank on you. Good for them. Does that mean we can take it down now?”

“Of course not!” Phineas looks scandalised. “It’s Christmas! It'll be good for business."

Lettie clucks her tongue. “Just you wait till you’ve had Charles slobber all over you, then let’s see how eager you are to keep it up for the rest of the month.”

“Oh, Lettie,” Phineas laughs, clapping her shoulder. “get a few drinks in you and you’ll be kissing everyone anyway.”

Lettie opens her mouth but her protest dies in her throat when Phineas leans in to kiss her cheek.

"Merry Christmas, you extraordinary woman and my dearest friend,” he murmurs, earnest and true. Lettie stares up at him, features blank with shock. They’ve come a long way from when they first met, when Phineas paid her the first compliment she’d ever received in her life. Now she and everyone who comes to see the show knows just how special she is, but maybe she doesn't know how special she is to _Phineas_. “I hope you meet your prince under the mistletoe,” he adds, winking.

Lettie recovers quickly and rolls her eyes. Her ear to ear grins gives her away, her cheeks almost the same colour as the lipstick stains upon them. "Oh, you old charmer.”

* * *

  
  
Lettie makes her way through the tent by sticking to the shadows, trying to stay out of sight. She's already had enough of being kissed for one day and it's not even lunch time yet. She's almost back at her dressing room when she hears voices, male voices, close by and ducks beneath the stands.

W.D. and Constantine talk amongst themselves, oblivious. But unfortunately, they seem to have the same avoidance technique that Lettie has, for they almost bump right into her.

“Face it, Con, you’re never gonna get a better opportunity than this. Just-”

At the sight of Lettie, W.D. shuts his mouth so quickly his teeth clink together. 

She eyes them warily. “Don’t you two have something better to be doing than skulking around back here?”

They make no comment about _her_ skulking.

“Yeah, actually. Con has something to ask you,” W.D. says brightly, nudging Constantine forwards.

Constantine offers a wobbly smile and swallows audibly, his gaze darting up above her head. Lettie follows his line of sight, already knowing what she’s going to see. Her heart leaps into her throat.

Silence has never been so loud.

“Well are you going to kiss me?” Lettie asks, putting all her bravado into her voice and willing it not to shake, even as she feels like she’s about to shatter into a million pieces. “Or are you going to make a girl stand under the mistletoe forever?”

With a smile that wreaks havoc on Lettie’s ability to breathe, the tension melts from Constantine’s shoulders and _there’s_ her sauve, confident prince. Still his hands tremble as he touches her face and Lettie’s heart feels ready to leap right out her chest as she watches him lean in ever so slowly, half of her expecting this to be some practical joke, but no, Constantine is kind and-

_Oh_.

His lips brush hers and Lettie’s mind goes blissfully blank. 

“God, _finally_ ,” W.D. grumbles from behind them.

Lettie couldn’t agree more and her whole body sings with happiness as she pulls Constantine closer. Once W.D.’s footsteps retreat into the distance and they are alone, she leads her prince into the shadows beneath the stands.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


“Hey, Deng?” 

Deng Yan looks up from her pre-show ritual of making sure her blades are spotless and everything is in the right place to find W.D. standing in front of her.

“Lettie told me you were asking for this?”

He holds a jar of pink paste out to her which she takes with a nod. The miracle moisturiser Lettie swears by. “Thank you.”

“What’s it for?”

Deng holds up her hands, her palms all pink and cracked from the cold. “Winter doesn’t agree with me.”

A sudden look of sheer panic crosses W.D.’s face as he stares up at something above her head.

“What’s wrong?”

His expression shifts from panic into determination and she watches as W.D. steps closer, the scent of his cologne filling her nose as he presses a shy, almost hesitant kiss to her cheek.

An involuntary sound escapes Deng and she claps a hand over her mouth but it’s too late. They stare at each other in wide eyed disbelief.

“Did you-” W.D. shakes his head like his ears must be deceiving him. “Was that a _giggle_?”

“ _No_ ,” she insists, mortified. 

W.D.’s face lights up like he’s just been told he’s got a pay rise of fifty percent.

“Deng, are you _blushing_?”

She lifts her chin in the air and pretends she can’t feel her cheeks burning. “You caught me off-guard, that’s all.”

Deng is used to everyone at the circus keeping a respectful distance, with the exceptions of Rosie and Barnum, and the latter only because he has no concept of personal space. She’s well aware of the mistletoe competition going on- she’d have to be blind and deaf to miss it- but so far, W.D. is the only one who’s dared kiss her, despite her hanging around the mistletoe all day.

“Merry Christmas,” W.D. says softly, bowing to her. Deng opens her mouth to remind him she doesn’t celebrate it, but he smiles apologetically and corrects himself. “Happy holidays.”

He slips away into the backstage chaos.

Deng touches her cheek in wonder and goes back to polishing her blades with a small smile on her face.

* * *

  
  


After the chaos of the day, Anne decides to get ready for the evening performance in the privacy and peace of her caravan. The sun set hours ago and so she fills the small space with candlelight and the earthy smell of incense. Charity and Phillip keep her company as she undertakes the laborious task of pinning her wig in place, Phillip’s head resting on Charity’s lap as they chat quietly and share a pot of tea.

“So how did you do it?” Phillip asks with the air of a man who’s been dying to ask that very question all day.

“What do you mean?”

“The mistletoe?”

Charity’s fingers still in his hair and she catches Anne’s eye in the mirror where she sits at her dressing table. “It wasn’t us. It wasn’t you?”

“What? No. Phin said you disappeared early this morning, and Anne was gone when I woke up. So we assumed…”

“Phillip, _everyone_ is awake before you,” Anne laughs. “You’re probably the only person we can rule out of this mystery.”

“Not that it’s much of a mystery. I bet Phin conveniently forgot to mention that he didn’t get home until very early this morning.” They’re alone in the caravan but Charity near whispers as if she fears being overheard. “I don’t know the time but it wasn’t much before sunrise. This is just the kind of thing he’d stay up all night doing.”

He looks up into Charity’s face, searching for the truth. From past experience, they know she can be just as mischievous as Phineas when the mood strikes. “It really wasn’t you?”

“Out of the four of us, Phillip, who is the most likely to pull this kind of stunt?”

The resounding answer is, of course, Phineas. Especially after last Christmas with the pudding fiasco. He’d have no qualms about spending half their budget on however many tons of mistletoe it would take to cover the entire circus.

“Yes, but he’d also be the first to admit it.”

Charity shrugs. “Oh, you know him, he’s enjoying the drama of it all.”

“Is that why he tried to take my eye out with this outside the door this morning?” Anne asks, gesturing to an entire branch of mistletoe propped up against the dressing table, a red ribbon tied neatly around the stem.

Phillip laughs and extracts himself from Charity’s lap to examine the piece. It’s heavy and overgrown with tiny white berries, weighty enough to knock someone unconscious if it were to fall from its hanging place.

“I think this was Phin’s round-about way of telling me I should kiss my wife more often.”

Phillip snaps a smaller twig off and tucks it behind Anne’s ear. She has a row of hairpins between her teeth so Phillip kisses her forehead and down the bridge of her nose. Anne's face splits into a warm, surprised smile, sending pins clattering to the floor. 

“Which wife?”

Charity’s arms encircle his waist from behind, chin resting on his shoulder as she kisses the skin beneath his ear. She moves to peck his cheek and Phillip turns his head at the last second so their lips brush instead. Charity smiles against his mouth, giggling as they part. 

He adds a clipping of mistletoe into Charity’s braid and another through the buttonhole of his coat.

Together they each kiss Anne’s cheek and proceed to decorate her face with kisses until she laughs and bats them away with a fond “stop, stop, I just finished my makeup.”

Phillip eyes the clump of mistletoe and feels the start of a plan coming together in his head.

“You know, I have an idea how we can get Phin back for this…”

  
  


* * *

  
  


They corner him backstage after the show, the applause still ringing in their ears and adrenaline running high.

“Hey, PT?” Phillip starts. “We just wanted to thank you.”

Phineas doesn’t look up from the coils of rope he’s packing away. “What for?”

“The mistletoe, of course!” Lettie exclaims.

Phineas looks at her, looks down at her hand entwined with Constantine’s and smirks.

“Well then I don’t know why you’re thanking _me_ , you should be thanking the mistletoe fairies for their contribution to the festive cheer.”

“Give it up, we know it was you,” Charles deadpans.

Phineas waves a dismissive hand. “Lies and slander.”

“Oh well,” W.D. sighs sadly. “You won’t want our gift to you in return, then.”

“With you lot, it depends what it is,” Phineas says, eyeing the group warily, half expecting to get a dozen pies shoved in his face or something equally silly. The group surround him now and with no escape, Phineas gives up any pretence of work. 

“It’s the same gift you gave us. But you’ve been mysteriously absent all day so...”

Lettie grabs his face and kisses him soundly on the mouth. Wolf whistles echo through the tent.

“Oh, well, thank you,” Phineas stammers once he's released. Lettie cackles at the stunned look on his face. “I-I didn’t know you cared-”

She’s followed in quick succession by Deng and Anne, who each peck him chastely on the cheek. 

Vasily gathers Phineas up in his arms and kisses the top of his head. The albino triplets all have mistletoe woven into their white locks and they kiss him in sync. 

The kisses keep coming from a long line of oddities. Some, like O’Malley, hesitate and look like they’d rather shake his hand but are eventually egged on by the rest of the group. Some, like Jeremy, at least warn him with a “going in for the kill” before a very passionate kiss, to which Phineas just ends up laughing against their mouths.

Phineas looks over to where Phillip is stood on the sidelines watching the scene unfold, eyes twinkling with mirth. “Was this your idea?”

Phillip’s grin widens. “No, must’ve been those mistletoe fairies.”

Phineas notices every single person has a piece of mistletoe attached to their hair or clothing and realises far too late that they planned this. Not that he minds at all, in fact, he welcomes the affection.

“Alright, alright! Is that everyone now?” he asks, laughing delightedly.

Someone presses the length of their body against his back and small, delicate hands reach around to cover his eyes. If it’s meant to be a surprise, it doesn’t succeed; Phineas would know the feel of his wife anywhere.

“Not quite everyone.”

Phineas brings Charity’s hands to his mouth and kisses over her fingertips, chuckling at her pleased hum against his ear. 

“Saving the best for last,” he declares, and the statement is met with murmurs of approval from those closest.

He turns to face his wife and his heart does the familiar funny flutter in his chest at the sight of her radiant smile. Phineas touches the mistletoe woven into Charity’s hair and tenderly draws her in until their lips meet in the middle. 

Cheers and whistles erupt from the family around them. 

Adding a little flair, Phineas gently tilts Charity backwards, her hands scrabbling around his neck as he dips her low. Her startled squeak is lost against his mouth and they laugh until their kiss becomes a mess of brushed lips and bumped noses.

“One of these days you’re going to put your back out throwing me around like you’re still twenty five,” Charity teases as they part.

High offence knits itself into every line on Phineas’ face. “Nonsense, I'm still in my prime!"

He readjusts Charity in his arms then lifts her again, carrying her against his chest like he did across the threshold on their wedding day.

“See? Light as a feather. I could have Phillip and the girls on my back at the same time, easy.”

Charity hums appreciatively. "Show off.”

"Show _man,"_ Phineas corrects. He boops the end of her nose, a tried and tested method of cheering up his daughters when they’re sad, and Charity’s face lights up.

Caroline and Helen come barrelling backstage in a riot of noise and make a bee-line for their father. Phineas hastily sets Charity back on her feet just as the girls crash into his legs with their enthusiasm, almost sending him toppling over. 

“Here’s my bestest girls!”

They jump up and down on the spot, shouting over each other in their determination to be heard. Phineas crouches so Caroline can clamber onto his back and hoists Helen up onto his hip. There’s mistletoe attached to the ribbons in the girls’ hair and Phineas makes a show of kissing all over Helen’s face while she squeals and wriggles in his arms. Caroline is having none of it and leaps off his back and hides behind him when he tries to get her.

“Daddy, you forgot someone,” Helen tells him in a voice far too serious for one so young.

“Impossible! Who?”

“Jumbo!”

“Jumbo,” Phineas repeats weakly. “Jumbo is an elephant, my sweet.”

“So? Elephants deserve kisses too,” Helen insists, pouting. “Lots and lots of them because they’re so big.”

“And the lions,” Caroline chirps, tugging his sleeve.

“And tigers,” Helen giggles. “And _bears_!” 

“Oh my,” Charity murmurs, putting on her most scandalised voice. “You’ll be needing a nice long bath when you get home tonight, dear.”

Phineas shoots her a dark look. “And a new toothbrush.”

Anne and Phillip laugh. Charity pats his shoulder.

“The things we do for our kids, eh?” Phineas sighs. He makes a show of sounding put upon, when in reality, everyone knows there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for his little angels. “Come on then, let’s go and wish the animals a happy Christmas.”

Caroline and Helen let out a victorious cheer. With Helen on his shoulders and Caroline clinging to his back like a monkey, they make their way towards the animal quarters, singing along to their favourite Christmas carol as they go.

Anne bumps her shoulder against Charity’s, leaning in to whisper conspiratorially, “Did you put the girls up to this?”

Charity blinks at them, her face carefully neutral but the amusement in her eyes shines through. “They are their father’s daughters. Why would you think I’m responsible for anything that comes out of those girls’ mouths, except for their manners if I'm lucky?”

Phillip raises his eyebrows and lets the silence do the talking for him.

“They might be gone awhile.” Charity changes the subject, her shoulders shaking as she fails to keep the laughter from her voice. Now she addresses the entire troupe. “I made some mulled wine if anyone would care to join me for a glass?”

A cheer ripples through the group.

Anne and Phillip link their arms through Charity’s and make their way towards the kitchens. As they go, Phillip congratulates everyone on a task well done.

"But the mistletoe stays up, right?" Charles asks, shouting above the crowd.

Phillip looks to his ladies, who shrug and leave the decision in his lap. He sighs and wonders how much more madness the circus can take. Still, he has no desire to dampen their spirits.

"The mistletoe stays up," Phillip declares and is met with boisterous applause. "Until the new year!"

* * *

  
  
  


_Later that night in the Barnum household..._

_“Yes, of course we all appreciated the gesture, Phin," Phillip explains, exasperation creeping into his voice from having this conversation go around in circles for the last ten minutes. "What I’m saying is that you didn't have to turn the place into a mistletoe jungle to do so."_

_Curled into Phillip’s side and half absorbed in a book, Charity laughs. Anne, exhausted from the show, snores softly against his shoulder, oblivious._

_Phineas' head appears around the bedroom door, his freshly washed hair damp and curling around his temples. "Yeah but why do things by halves? We run a circus not a bank!” An all too familiar smile creeps across Phineas’ face, a smile that spells trouble. “And if you think the mistletoe was too much, wait till you see the rest of the Christmas decorations.”_

_Phillip throws a pillow at him. It misses its mark and ends up on the floor as Phineas darts away, laughing gleefully._

_“Phineas!”_

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and happy holidays!  
> Comments are basically virtual presents and who doesn't love giving presents!


End file.
